


Kitten

by katyfaise



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, russian lessons with solo sounds like a good day tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 01:36:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4687478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katyfaise/pseuds/katyfaise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a moment, she whispers the word beneath her breath, trying it out on her tongue. </p>
<p>“What does that mean?” she asks when Illya returns with her finger of whiskey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kitten

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neckwear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neckwear/gifts).



> so i'm officially the man from uncle trash. this is just me getting into the feel for these characters. expect more very very soon.

“Kotyonok.”

The word catches her off guard at first. Gaby has been trying to learn Russian, but she’s only picked up a few words and phrases here and there in their time together. Amongst the briefings and the missions and the running for their lives it’s hard to sit down and learn a whole new language. It’s no surprise that when Illya mutters the word, his fingers lightly brushing her wrist as he takes her empty glass from her, that she raises a brow in response. 

For a moment, she whispers the word beneath her breath, trying it out on her tongue. 

“What does that mean?” she asks when Illya returns with her finger of whiskey. 

He sits beside her, his never changing, stoic face, showing no sign of emotion. Illya simply hums in response and sits straighter, even as Gaby relaxes against him. 

“Illya what does ‘kotyonok’ mean?”

The corner of his mouth turns up in a bit of a smirk, and she knows he’s laughing at her pronunciation. She’s growing annoyed at his clear avoidance of her question and she grumbles. 

“What the hell does it mean?” 

She narrows her eyes and downs the rest of her drink. After she slams the glass down on the coffee table, she elbows him in his side roughly, gaining a groan of disapproval from the Russian. 

“Fine. Don’t tell me then.” Gaby stands up from the couch, sulking and stomping her way to the bedroom door which she slams behind her. 

—

The next morning, she sits out on the balcony alongside Solo, her delicate fingers wrapped around a teacup, face hidden by large sunglasses.

“…Teller? Teller, are you listening to me at all?”

She looks toward him and smiles apologetically. “Sorry, I’m distracted.”

“You don’t say?”

Gaby hums under her breath and grabs a piece of toast, eating it slowly. “You speak Russian don’t you?” she asks suddenly and the question makes Solo laugh, the sort of knowing, quiet laugh that always annoys her. 

“Has our dear Peril been speaking too quickly for you to keep up?”

“No!” she quickly defends, offended that he would think she couldn’t keep up with either of them at this point. But his eyes soften toward her and she realizes he is joking. 

“What do you need to know?”

She repeats the word from the day before, still clumsy on her tongue, but she’s grown confident after she repeated it to herself all night. When Solo laughs again, she looks up, concern written all over her face.

“Kitten.”

“What did you call me?”

“No, it’s means kitten. Apparently Illya has taken to calling you his kitten. How very adorable.”

Gaby smiles for a brief second before she sits back in her chair and crosses her arms, her face devoid of any telling emotion once more. 

—

Illya avoids her for most of the day, a fact that she doesn’t miss. It’s not until late in the evening when he returns to the chic hotel room does he lay eyes on Gaby again. 

“Meow,” she greets, before he has a chance to say anything. 

When his mouth turns into a smile, she follows suit. 

“Hello, kotyonok.”

“Hello, solnyshko.”

“Ah. Russian lessons with Cowboy, I see.”


End file.
